A New Dawn
by The Pedantic Llama
Summary: A darker, grittier version of Pokemon, set against the backdrop of modern-day England. When a terrorist organisation, a mysterious cult and a shady organisation threaten the safety of the planet, the world of Pokemon shall never be the same again...


PROLOGUE

LONDON, OCTOBER 2010

All he could hear was the sound of the rain. Looking upwards, the boy watched each individual droplet fall from the jet black clouds overhead, their shadow lingering over the city like flies over rotting meat. The downpour splattered across his face, dripping down off his nose and stinging his flesh as he pulled the hood of his coat a little further forwards, attempting to shield himself from the wrath of Mother Nature.

The alleyway was totally empty, save for his companion, who was foraging in a bin not far away. The only light was from that of a streetlight several metres away, the faded orange glow penetrating the inky darkness of the dingy alley. Brickwork lay to the boy's left and right, slowly crumbling away, the last vestige of a bygone generation lying decrepit and outdated.

Scanning the alleyway back and forth with his deep, sea-green eyes, the boy realised that he would have to move soon. He could not wait here all night, it was too dangerous. If he was found by the wrong people…with a shudder, he dismissed the thought. He was just being paranoid, that was all. Besides, his job _did _have a dangerous nature, which was what had attracted him to it in the first place.

"Damn you, adrenaline," he muttered, giving a small smirk from beneath his dark hood. Making sure the rucksack slung across his shoulder was secure, he cast an eye towards the bins, where his friend was still foraging for scraps of food. The creature moved almost soundlessly, as if it knew of the secretive nature of their task. It looked back at him, its large, golden eyes locking with his own, and gave a knowing nod.

"Treecko, get your ass back here," the boy whispered, holding out the ball which served as a capsule system for his partner. The Pokemon vanished in a tiny flash of red light, its green body disappearing as it dematerialised from its head all the way down to its lizard-like tail. With a casual toss from its owner's hand, the Pokeball flew a short way into the air, before landing neatly in the boy's hand. He had no idea how the things really worked, but they got the job done, and that was all that he cared about.

Heavy boots splashing in the puddles surrounding him, the boy made a dash for the light end of the alleyway, the rain lashing against his body as he moved. His eyes flickered from left to right as he emerged onto the quiet street, checking for any signs of trouble. Nothing. The street was devoid of life, save for a lone Hoothoot which perched precariously atop a lamppost. It hopped around a little, watching the boy's figure slowly walking towards it with curiosity, before growing bored and flying away somewhat lopsidedly into the night, its wings barely managing to hold up its fat, rounded body.

Stopping just underneath the very same lamppost, the boy turned to face the row of houses which lined the street. Most were painted white and surrounded by cast iron railings, giving the impression that those who lived here were both fairly wealthy, and also fond of their privacy. The building which stood before him looked particularly imposing, with large square windows and a tall, red door with a brass knocker. Approaching the knocker, the boy furtively checked his surroundings once more, to make sure that nobody was watching him. When he was sure that the coast was clear, he removed his rucksack, unzipped it as quietly as possible, and removed a large brown envelope, which he carefully posted through the door's letterbox. The brown paper vanished from sight, and he reached for the ornate ring, rapping it three times on the door, before pausing and adding a fourth knock. The secret code. There would at least be a Pokemon awake in the household at this time of night, probably on guard, but its owner would have made sure that it knew the code. Sure enough, there came the pitter-patter of paws from inside, and a noise that sounded akin to a Snubbull's low grunt.

Turning swiftly on the spot, the boy moved away from the house, quickly pulling his rucksack onto his back as he kept an eye out for any trouble. Once or twice, he was sure he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, but convinced himself that it was probably just another Pokemon. The Hoothoot from before had returned to perch above him, and was now cooing softly into the night.

As the boy turned a corner, he noticed that it had at last stopped raining. Pulling his hood down, he ran a hand through his damp, short ginger hair and gave a small smile - at least his journey back would be more comfortable. With a small chuckle, he made his way onto the next street, and promptly collided with something that felt like a brick wall.

"Alright sonny, watch your step now," a man's booming voice chuckled downwards as the boy reeled backwards. Clad in a bright yellow visibility jacket, the policeman was a giant of a man, tall and fairly chubby, a modern-style police cap covering his bald head. He looked to be in his mid forties, with twinkling blue eyes and a chin coated in grey stubble. As the two men looked at each other, there was a flash of recognition, followed by the policeman's question of: "Hang on a sec…ain't you Garth Roberts' lad? It's Gavin, isn't it?"

Gavin nodded, trying to keep eye contact. If he did not look at the officer, then he would obviously think that he was up to no good. But this strategy only half worked. "Hey," the man said, sounding a lot more serious now he had noticed something wrong, "'Ow come you've got two active Pokeballs on yer belt? This is a one-'Mon only zone, you know…"

"Yes sir, sorry sir," Gavin replied, hurriedly. The respectful tone did not suit him, it sounded strange to his ears. "I'll send one to the system right away…" Pressing a button on the front of one Pokeball, he heard a buzzing sound from inside, followed by a small, robotic female voice telling him that his second Pokemon had been sent to the computer. Treecko remained in its Pokeball, waiting for its master's call.

"Don't worry about it, lad," the policeman chuckled, "I made the same mistake the other day. Forgot to send this Koffing I caught back to storage before I went on duty, made me look like a right idiot…what you doing up so late?"

But Gavin was already gone. The policeman shot a baffled look down both sides of the street, looking for the boy who had seemingly vanished into nowhere. With a sigh and a shrug, he removed his cap and wiped his sweaty brow, moving on slowly yet warily. There was something about that boy he didn't entirely trust…but what was it that made him think that?

Then, he came to a juddering halt, turned on his heels and began to sprint in the opposite direction. Gavin Roberts had to be found. How could he have missed it, when it was so obvious? How could he have missed that logo on the underside of the boy's rucksack? The logo…the emblem of the crime syndicate.

The emblem of Team Rocket.


End file.
